When You Mix Teen Titans and Rock Music
by IggyRamone
Summary: As the only teenager on earth who likes classic punk rock anymore, I'm writing this as a change of pace to all the songfics inspired by emo or pop bands. Rockers, if you're still out there, this one's worth your time. BBRae, RobStar BEING REWRITTEN
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This thing is being totally rewritten, except for the prologue, which I deleted. Hopefully my writing sucks less. I've improved greatly lately, and gotten over a couple issues which were interfering with my writing. Damn you, alcoholic father, divorces and general angst. They're real motivation killers. They've derailed every story I've written, but this one I decided I had to get back on the horse with.**

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It was a rare day when the Titans got a night to themselves, but today the stars had aligned and the alarm had slumbered. Even stranger, Raven was hanging out in the common room, while Beast Boy hadn't been seen all day. The other three, however, were simply enjoying their dinner.

Starfire sat a few feet away from him, gazing up at the TV screen, flipping from channel to channel. _Have we watched a minute of an actual show yet? _he wondered. It seemed to him that the alien girl had gone through a hundred stations, and paused only to watched the commercials. To Robin, it was amusing. To a certain cybernetic teen, though, not so much.

"Hey Star," Cyborg shouted over his shoulder in the kitchen, "Can ya turn the TV to MTV? I think my brain might fry if we watch another Shamwow ad."

"Oh! My apologies!" she replied sheepishly. She had found the salesman Vince's peculiar brand of enthusiasm to be rather entertaining, but she supposed sixteen times _was _excessive.

"No problem Star. They're showing the Doom Patrol concert tonight, and there's no way I'm missing it like last time."

"The Doom Patrol!" she said with excitement. "I wish to see it as well!"

"You like them?"

"Oh yes, very much! They are, as you say, the explosives?"

"I hear that!" he called back, with a slight chuckle at her naïveté.

Robin looked back and forth between his two teammates, confused. The Doom Patrol he knew certainly did not play concerts. "Am I missing something here?"

Starfire leapt up from the couch. "You have misplaced something? What is it? May I be of assistance finding it? Perhaps—" She began rummaging around through the couch, throwing the cushions up in the air in her haste to help her 'friend'. When there were no cushions left, Starfire decided the couch itself was also a target of suspicion, lifting it high above her head in search of Robin's supposedly lost item. With Robin still on it.

"What—? No, Star, I just—aack!" Robin yelped. He lost his balance despite his frantically waving arms and fell several feet to the floor, landing flat on his face. His plate of food, however, remained on the arm of the sofa. And not a drop spilled from the glass of soda he'd been drinking. The irony did not escape him.

He picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off. Starfire put the couch down and grabbed him a moment later, shaking the daylights out of him. "Friend! You are not hurt, correct? I have not caused you bodily harm?"

Raven watched from her seat at the table as the alien girl fussed over her traffic light love. _It's sickening. _Across the room, Cyborg was thinking exactly the same thing.

After about a minute, Robin managed to convince her that no—he was not hurt, and no—he had not lost any of his belongings. He breathed a great sigh of relief, then brought his mind back to the matter at hand and his butt back to the grounded couch. "So, anyways…what's this about the Doom Patrol?" he asked.

It was the quiet girl in the corner who answered. "They're the latest band that the music industry has decided to force feed us," she said, not looking up from her book.

"That's not much help." When no further explanation was forthcoming, he looked towards Cyborg to get an explanation—a proper one, not one that, well, sucked. But he had rounded on Raven, defending his honor. Was taste in music a form of honor?

"Well, _princess_, my memory may be spotty but I definitely recall hearing their album blasting out of your room for the last week."

5's expression was blank. "I never said I didn't like them. However, I'm fully prepared to stop in anticipation of said album becoming completely overplayed."

"And how do you know that's going to happen?"

"Cyborg, look what channel the band is being featured on."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Raven raised an eyebrow at that. _Is he listening to himself? It's pretty obvious what MTV does to music, even to someone who doesn't watch that trash. _"Nothing. Nothing at all."

A vein twitched on the side of Cyborg's head. It was a classic Raven hit and run. She'd make a cheap shot at something they liked, and then refuse to be engaged in a 'petty debate' as she was fond of calling them. He couldn't defend the fact that his favorite band had made it big and been sucked in by the soulless_ monster_ called MTV, it was just the nature of awesome things. How could he be confrontational when she refused to stoop down to his level?

Raven watched from the table as the gears turned in the metallic man's head, and smirked at her victory.

However, it was also her loss. Because for once, the band that the mainstream had decided to destroy was one that she liked. She'd liked them from the instant she heard the name _Doom Patrol_, because, well, it reminded her of Beast Boy. The music certainly hadn't let her down either. As much as she may not have had 'normal' taste in music, she had to say that the general public was right about this one. _Why couldn't they have just found another teen pop star or boy band? _she despaired.

Robin realized he was not likely to get a reasonable answer from Cyborg anytime soon—he would be busy trying to get a rise out of Raven so he could continue his argument. He turned around, and his eyes fell back on his dinner. The same dinner that had so smugly stayed in place earlier. "Superglued to the couch, are we?" he wondered aloud, poking his Coke suspiciously. It tumbled to the ground, sending the liquid everywhere.

"Not anymore," Raven deadpanned. A moment later, the glass that had been at rest on the ground somehow found a way to shatter on the carpet. Tiny shards lay in the midst of the brown stains.

Cyborg burst out laughing. "Not your day, eh Rob?" he said smugly. "First your bed collapses, then that file cabinet falls on you, then you get dumped off the couch—and now this." Making fun of his leader was so much more entertaining than annoying the half-demon girl—and probably a lot safer, too.

Exasperated, the Titan leader looked to the heavens. "What have I done to you?" he groaned. "I'll get a towel."

"I shall assist you!" called Starfire, popping up from the couch. Unseen by anyone else, a smile formed on Robin's face as he walked to the kitchen. Every cloud had a silver lining, even when a goddamn thunderstorm seemed to be following him around. Cyborg saw this as he moved to the couch from the kitchen, and shook his head piteously. _That boy is so hopeless._

"Yo, Rob, it's startin'! Come see what you've been missing!" called Cyborg from his new spot on the newly vacant couch. But as soon as he turned around, he knew he was too late. Robin and Starfire were in the kitchen making eyes at each other, taking turns as the other turned their back in their search for cleaning supplies. He snorted. Good luck trying to get either of them to pay attention once they were focused on each other. _Too bad. He's missing out on a rockin' band. Oh well, his loss. _He caught Raven's eye, and gestured with a tilt of his head at the oblivious couple. She turned her head to watch, and then shot Cyborg a look back. A look that seemed to convey infinite amounts of disbelief at the painfully pathetic display.

"—and for those of you at home, we have something here for you. Live from Las Vegas, the hottest name in rock, THE DOOM PATROL!" Cheers erupted from the crowd on screen. The camera went to a shot of the stage, where four teenage boys were finishing up their tuning. The drummer gestured with his sticks at the three other boys who had congregated around his drum set, barking out an unheard command.

The separated, and went to their respective places—guitarist on the right of the singer, bassist on the left. The tall, lanky singer stepped up to the microphone, and closed his eyes. A pause. He raised his right hand above his head, and the lights dimmed; fading to a deep blue before going all the way dark. A few seconds passed, and the volume of the crowd hit fever pitch. In the dark, the frontman seized the mike stand and started speaking rapidly. "Hey, we're the Doom Patrol and it's good to see all you tonight, take it Izzy!"

From his side, the bassist yelled at the top of his lungs. "ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR!"

With the first blast of sonic energy from the guitars, the lights flared on, brilliant white replacing the darkness from just moments before. The band launched into their first song at breakneck pace, drums pounding and guitar distorting from the raw power. The frontman picked up his stand and swung it around his head as lights flashed, slamming it down as he snarled his entrance into the song.

_I'm a streetwalking cheetah with a heart full of napalm_

_I'm the runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb_

_I am the world's forgotten boy_

_The one who searches and destroys_

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Half an hour later, the noise ceased with one last clash of the cymbals. All four Titans—even Raven—were sitting on the couch, slack jawed.

"That was….amazing." No one know who said it.

"Yeah….I've seen a lot of things, but, man…." No one cared, either.

The commentator came in with the voiceover as the camera panned over the pulsing sea of people. "The Doom Patrol has lit this place on fire to-night! The stage might be empty, but you'd never know it looking at this audience, they're still going strong! And the show's not over for those of you watching at home, either. Right now we have an exclusive interview with the one and only _Darren Feral_!"

The camera cut to a tall, bespectacled man in his late thirties, and a blond haired boy who looked to be about seventeen or eighteen. He wore dark sunglasses, a bandana and a small grin.

"It's Tom Meijer live from Las Vegas, I'm here with lead singer of the Doom Patrol, Darren Feral!" There was a slight pause, and the youth waved at the camera nervously. "So, Darren, you played the second of your two Vegas shows tonight. What did you think of the crowd tonight? Better or worse than yesterday?"

"Loud," replied Darren in a hoarse, scratchy voice. He chuckled hesitantly, the reporter joining in.

"Yes, I believe my eardrums will be ringing for the next week," he said, laughing again. "So, you're touring in support of your debut album, _Paradise Lost_, correct?"

The singer shuffled his feet and looked down. "Yeah."

Tom continued brightly a second later, "You guys sounded great tonight! That thing is going to fly off the shelves!"

At that, Darren only grimaced. He received a queer look from the reporter, who was expecting a reply. "Oh! I—uh, yeah, I hope so."

"So how long is this tour going to last?"

"I—we…we have no idea. This was our biggest show so far, and we're not sure if we want to go on a big long tour just yet. It's only our first, so we'll play it by ear."

"If I was you, I'd get used to it, cause it looks like you're a star now! Look at all these people!" Darren cast a glance at the mass of concertgoers who had gathered all around him, hoping to catch a glance of the singer and maybe appear on the ten o'clock news. He offered them a shy wave, but fiddled with a gold ring on his right hand in apparent uneasiness.

"Hold on, one moment," the reporter said quickly. He brought a finger to the headset in his ear for a minute and was silent. "Congratulations!" he shouted loudly at Darren, "We've just received word that _Paradise Lost _has gone platinum!" He nudged the teen, saying, "I told you it would fly off the shelves!" Instead of eliciting a cheer or even a smile, the news seemed to horrify the young man. He surveyed the throng of people surrounding him, something akin to panic flitting across his face. The ring was being wrenched around his finger.

"Oh no…no…." he said very softly, looking into the distance. "I'm sorry, I really have to leave now. Excuse me," he said breathlessly, stepping backwards. He ducked under the police barrier surrounding him and the two newsmen and squeezed his way through the crowd in quite a rush. The cameraman followed him as far as he could; then turned back to his partner.

"Looks like the great Darren Feral has never been on TV before," he said, trying to laugh it off and not entirely succeeding. After an awkward pause, he subtly brought a finger up across his throat, and a second later the shot cut to a commercial.

And again, no one spoke for a few minutes.

"Forgive me, friends, if I am mistaken, but that was most—unusual?" asked a puzzled Starfire.

"What the hell?" burst out Robin. "He just bailed on national television!"

"I have no idea, man! Yeah, what the hell _was _that about?"

"He must have wanted to save himself the embarrassment," said Raven. "That was the worst interview I've ever seen."

When the station returned from commercials, more footage of the Doom Patrol in concert was playing. It wasn't live, but it was certainly impressive nonetheless. Shots of the guitarist kicking over his amp stack and of playing in the pouring rain in Seattle. Then, a grainy video of the band performing on a barge, with a very familiar T-shaped structure in the twilit background.

"Aww, dammit! They came to Jump already? How the hell did I miss that, they were right outside the window!"

After a few more minutes, the slide show was over, and a list of concert dates was shown on the screen. Cyborg crossed his fingers, hoping that by some chance in hell his favorite band was going to come back.

"July sixteenth, July seventeenth….Phoenix, Vegas…..no, no…..FUCK YES! August twenty ninth! They're back in Jump for their last show! Oh man, I can't wait!"

"Oh, this is glorious! My anticipation is great as well," cheered Starfire.

"Cyborg, you lucky bastard," scoffed Robin. "Out of that entire list, this is the only city they play twice. First and last. They must be based around here."

And it was true. The Doom Patrol was based in Jump City, and closer than they might think. In fact, one of the members was living with them right now.

Beast Boy had been missing all day for a reason.

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**A/N: ****Hello my readers.**** I'm trying to reach a balance between finding people who care about my story and just finding the maximum number of people. So, who should I set as the main characters in story properties? Setting them as Beast Boy and Robin would decrease my number of hits from all the romantics out there, but I would probably find more people who would be interested in following the story's actual plot. If I set them as Robin and Starfire or Beast Boy and Raven, then I would probably reach a lot of people looking for a romantic story, but I don't know if this would satisfy them. So, I'm asking for your help. Even if my writing doesn't merit a review, I would request that you send one in anyway for the sake of my question. Thanks.**


	2. Temporary Author's Note

**For those of you who already read this and went "WTF?" at the numbered characters thing, I just wanted to give a heads up that it was a mistake and I've fixed it. Hopefully it's a easier read from here on out.**


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